Pain
by THGxTUCxPJO
Summary: "What would have happened if this person, this girl, had not been reaped into the Hunger Games?" Gale's POV starting at the End of Mockingjay when he gives Katniss the symbolic Arrow. I had to write it. I BAWLED from then on in MJ
1. Chapter 1

The dialouge in this story between Katniss and Gale is the real diaglouge in Mockingjay. The events are real. I just wrote this in Gale's POV

I DO NOT OWN THE HUNGER GAMES AND THE ACTUAL EVENTS BELOW THAT HAPPENED IN MOCKINGJAY. ALL RIGHTS GO TO SUZANNE COLLINS.

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><p>I walk down the hallway of the mansion.<p>

"One step in front on the other." I repeat in my head.

"Right here." the guard ushers, opening the door to Katniss's room.

I enter and lightly tap my knuckle onto the wood door.

"Can I have a minute?" I ask, walking in on her and her prep team.

She looks amazing from someone who just walked out of war. Her eyes showcase longing.

She looks to her prep team and they scuttle around before they find a place in the bathroom behind closed doors.

I come up behind her in the life-sized mirror. What would have happened if this person, this girl, had not been reaped into the Hunger Games? I could have had a chance, that's what. I may have been able to tell her my feelings for her, but no. She became of Capitol design. She was never the same. Katniss, my best friend.

"I brought you this," I say holding up a nearly vacant sheath of arrows clenched tightly in my left hand. I can't do this. I can't let her go. "It's supposed to be symbolic. You firing the last shot of the war."

"What if I miss?" she mumbles. "Does coin retrieve it and bring it back to me? Or just shoot Snow through the head herself?"

My face wants to fall. Katniss, the broken beyond repair person who is slowly slipping from my grasp.

"You won't miss."

She won't take the sheath so I drape it over her shoulder. We stand there face-to-face avoiding each others stained gray eyes.

"You didn't visit me in the hospital." She's right, I didn't.

Why didn't I? Oh yes, I was too busy pouring over what I was to say to Katniss for this very moment. I didn't get a lot of thinking done despite the two bullet wounds that were in my side.

"Was it your bomb?" she chokes. The bomb. The bomb that killed Prim. Poor defenseless Primrose.

"I don't know. Neither does Beetee," I gush.

But wait, something else comes to mind. "Does it matter?" I whisper. "You'll always be thinking about it."

I wait for her to deny it. Deny the very thought of me being as cruel and unrelentless as I have already presented my self to be. But her silence gives away her answer.

Now, my face truly falls and I know this is it. I must give her something. Something to think about, but what?

"That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family." I mutter, trying to conceal the anger that is growing on me from her silence. But once again, my shoulders sag. "Shoot straight, okay?"

I brush my hand to her cheek for one last touch, one last connection before I walk out the door and out of my best friends life.

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><p><em><strong>Review<strong>_ for more:)


	2. Chapter 2

Time passes by quickly before every single survivor in the Capitol is called to the steps of President Snow's mansion.

Of course, this is the time of his execution.

Katniss steps onto the so-called "stage" and the crowds go wild.

She stays oblivious, but it is only when the arrow is in her bow before I know she is fighting something in her head.

I move through the crowd as close as I can to receive a better view of what I can only recognize as a change of plans.

And yes, I am right.

Just when she tricks the crowd into thinking she is about to release the string, the nose of the arrow tilts up and her fingers finally release, causing President Coin to fall to the ground three feet in front of her.

Dead.

The crowd takes a collective breath intake before recognition floods.

Katniss Everdeen has killed President Coin.

My eyes don't leave her, but she kicks and screams as guards force her back. "Gale!" she screams a strangled cry. "Shoot me!"

I can't.

She never shot me. I'll never shoot her.

She's blocked from my view. I run up the steps through raging chaos and find her being hauled off blindfolded and shackled.

"Katniss!" I call out weakly because then and only then do I march right into a wall of uneven guards as she is pulled away behind them.

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><p>Review:)<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Two in one day...I'm amazing:)

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><p>I sit down in the training center control room behind Beetee who is entranced in the rabid person he never knew lying in the monitor screen in front of him.<p>

"She's...crazy."

"That's her, alright." I stifle an embarrassed laugh, ruffling my hair.

"Would you like to see?"

I must show some sort of answer in my expression, because he slides over and let's me pull up a chair.

I do and when I get close to the screen, Beetee taps on the monitor and the screen zooms into Katniss's face.

She looks horrible. Makeup streaks down her face. Clawed marks ripped into her bludgeoned patched skin.

"Savage." Beetee mumbles.

Savage? Katniss Everdeen? Savage.

"She was right." I stand up, turning to Beetee. "Killing Coin was ingenious on her part and you call her _savage_?" I spit the word in utter anger. "I just can't take it anymore."

The stress. The lies. The horror. The ruined past, present, and future.

I walk toward the door.

"Go on."

I stop. Right in my tracks.

"You still love her, don't you?" Beetee continues.

My hands clench into fists and I turn.

"Look at her." I growl. "The world has been ripped from her grasp. The very soul reason she started this fight has been killed...and she thinks I did it." My face falls.

I collapse into the nearest seat.

"Gale." Beetee wheels over in his rolling chair next to me. He places a hand ever so slightly on my back as if I were to fight back at any given moment. "What is done is done. Yes, Katniss believes you to be some sort of hostile creature, but now it's inevitable. It's too late to give up."

We sit there in silence.

"I can't let her go…I just can't." I struggle to fight the urge to…to what? Cry. Scream. Yell. Fight? Fighting is over. I might have won the rebellion, but why do I feel so much as a desperate dwindling spirit falling into nothingness. Katniss, is gone. I should have accepted that the first time she was hauled off to the Capitol in the First Games.

Why haven't I though?

"Mr. Hawthorne?" a voice cracks behind me. Beetee and I look up.

A small red headed attendant stands quietly in the doorway.

"You have been ordered to your quarters for the night." She timidly speaks.

I nod slightly.

Beetee gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before I stand up. "It's not over."

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><p>Please, please, please, please, please <em><strong>review<strong>_. Does anyone read this story?


	4. Chapter 4

Over the course of the night, I can't fall asleep. Mother, Rory, Vick, and Posy are stuck in Thirteen. Oh how I wish they were here now.

I stare at the ceiling, the warm sheets pulled over my cold body and my arm draped over my head.

The little things come up.

Posy's laugh.

Vick's snares.

Rory's act for Prim.

Prim.

Poor little innocent Prim.

Rory had something there. He denied it every time, but I knew he never wanted it to turn out the way Katniss and I did.

Mere strangers walking a drift in the path to nowhere.

I wonder how he feels now. Probably lost, cursing my name.

Prim.

I swear it wasn't me. Those designs were strictly forbidden from anyone's view, except Coin. She did it. I know she did. Katniss was right to kill her off instead of Snow. Snow died anyways, though. A mysterious ending no one cares to look over.

Katniss.

At this very moment, she, herself, could be planning another death.

Her own.

She won't last. She can't. She is broken. But aren't we all?

Without further consent, I toss the sheets aside and fumble for my shirt. Still wearing my pants from earlier, I tug the black t-shirt over my head and creep into the hallway.

Dark cascading shadows emanate from the depths of the hall.

The training center. I was assigned room 3 on The District Two floor. All connections to District Twelve's floor, where Katniss is in quarantine, have been cut off.

I fumble to the elevator and find the button to lead me to the control room.

The door dings open and when I step into the Control room; Katniss is plastered over every computer screen. No one else is in here, but the taunting view of Katniss passed out on the bloody mattress. I rush to the seat.

"Katniss..." I stumble quietly. My fingertips find the screen and I brush the very automated image that consoles her body.

When I touch the screen, the camera zooms in on her mangled body. Different colors of skin are what put the finality on her metaphoric role-play. She now is considered an official mutt.

Slowly but surely she has dissolved into this creature that lies before me. Katniss. She changed the moment she stepped in front of Prim that hot summer day to take her place. She then became of Capitol design, toying with our naïve minds thinking she was in love the Peeta.

Even worse, me. I came to believe after that, that something wasn't over.

We still had that same connection.

We still could trust each other. But really I edged this thing along by pulling a screaming Prim away as we both watched Katniss except the decision to become a tribute in the 74th Hunger Games. But now, they have physically altered her.

Katniss.

Poor little innocent Katniss.

What must be going through her head?

Cursing? Turmoil? Depression?

I stare at her.

The curve of her brow. The tear stains in her tan cheeks. The way her body envelops its self sparks a jolt up my spine.

What about Peeta? The insane maniac that almost gave Katniss and I a chance again.

Last I heard he was reconstructed like Katniss was. Patched skin, burn scars.

Katniss.

The Girl on Fire.

Literally.

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><p><strong>Aww. *tear*<strong>

**:)**

**Review on what you think:)**


	5. Chapter 5

Longest Chapter so far...just right under 1,000 words. Sorry guys, its hard to write so much in one chapter, when the whole story line is actually short:/

But by the reviews, I doing good, huh? :D

Enjoy...

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><p>I stay there all night.<p>

Sleeping to me as useless as time its self now, and I can't get her off my mind.

I stay there watching her—Her chest rise and fall in harmonious breathing. The silent tears that squeeze through her closed eyes that then turn in to harsh wails. Nightmares.

I wish I could get to her.

Somehow.

Protect her from any more harm. Ask for her forgiveness.

But I can't.

She won't forgive me. We both no each other too well and she's too stubborn.

The thought brings a smile to my lips.

"Ooh, Katniss." I tsk. "You've done it again. Haven't you?" I prop my head to lie on my elbow and stroke the monitor lightly.

She has done it. Just another plan, like the rest, that has gone amiss. But I can't blame her. Really, I think this whole think, the Rebellion, was probably a major blood bath waiting to happen. I knew it was going to happen. It was going to happen, no matter what. It's just…

This is as close to my best friend as I can get. This is the closest I can protect her.

Because that's what we do.

Protect each other.

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><p>There is a sharp nudge on my shoulder and I jolt awake.<p>

"What?" I grumble, reevaluating my surroundings.

I blink into focus and rub my eyes.

Katniss lies awake staring at the ceiling, paralyzed in anger, angst, fear.

The lights are on in the control room and I ease my self around in the rolling chair.

There, standing inches from my face is Plutarch Heavensbee.

"Well, um." He clears his throat.

I raise an eyebrow.

"Uh, yes. Mr. Hawthorne. I would say that there is a meeting later this afternoon that you have been asked to appear too, but since I have finally found you…you look rather preposterous."

"Uh, thank you?"

"No, no." He stands me up. "Look at you! Did you even sleep?"

"Well, I—" He grabs me by the arm and drags me to the hallway.

"No, do not answer that. You are to go straight to you temporary quarters and sleep...bathe...dress...what ever you do."

I look at him strangely. My eyes still bleary.

"But, I—"

"No, no, no!" He grabs hold of the doorknobs. "I'll send an attendant to collect you in a couple hours. Until then, manage to make yourself…presentable."

And with that, he slams the doors in my face.

Rage blares through me. Katniss is in there and I was supposed to look over her the best I can.

I don't want her to leave.

I don't want to leave her.

"Gale Hawthorne?"

"What?" I spit, without looking at the voice's owner.

"I am here to direct you to your quarters."

I turn and there is the same red headed girl standing shyly with her hands tucked behind her back.

I have seen someone similar to her appearance years ago in the forest with Katniss. Different person, I assume.

I shrug, rolling my eyes.

She gives a curt nod and leads me up to my room.

When we reach my door, she opens it for me.

Great. I feel even more trapped this way. I can't even open my own door.

I enter.

"Gamemaker Plutarch has given orders for you to stay here until the meeting."

Plutarch still has that title?

"Yeah. Sure." I wave off in a mumble.

She blushes, curtsies, and closes the door.

I fall back onto the massive bed. The sheets have been made up and it's just too perfect. Like everything else in the insane asylum.

I let out a huff of exasperation.

I wonder what the meeting is for?

"Probably just another stupid rant I have to sit through." I wonder out loud, peeling off my shirt.

Just another one of those lectures where all the people do is go on and on about one subject, but never really figure things out.

I pull back the tight cover.

They won't know what to do with Katniss. They don't know anything anymore. They never knew her. They _destroyed_ her.

I tuck my self in and lay against the brightly colored fluffed pillows.

No one knows her anymore.

She has been tampered with so much that does anyone or any_thing_ understand what goes on in the "mentally disabled" head of hers?

That is another thing that ticks me off.

Back in Thirteen they labeled Katniss as Mentally Disabled.

Yeah, right.

How can you rip some one to shreds mentally, socially, and emotionally and turn around and label them to just be another Mentally Disabled patient.

Katniss.

Has she even thought of it yet? Her own escape from this world?

Another one of her plans that, by the looks of others in the past, will more than likely ultimately fail in the end?

She'll try to escape. Kill her self. But I highly doubt that she will come to that in the end.

Because in the end what really matters is not the pain. Not the tears. Not the lost. Not the sorrow.

Yeah, that all matters and weaves itself into our lives, it is inevitable.

Nothing can stop the torture, pain, and guilt.

My weakness is guilt.

The rage that courses through my veins, the adrenaline rush I get before I completely destroy…_everything_?

I am power hungry in ways to complicated for even me to understand.

Revenge. I have to always get revenge.

Yes, I understand. Pain, tears, sorrow, even _guilt_ don't even matter.

What really matters is what you get out of the situation.

Through all of the pain, tears, sorrow, and guilt, what do you learn?

No one knows Katniss anymore.

I bet she does not even know her own self now. Too damaged. Too…broken.

Do I even know Katniss anymore?

And with that, I fall into a horrific sleep.

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><p>WELL, its that time, again. Just click the button down there labeled REVIEW:D<p>

P.s. i also have another story District 2 (a continue of the Cinnamon Bread series) that i am updating all summer. It needs some reviews! :D

Thank ya much,

THGxTUCxPJO


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry, Guys.

My iPod broke and so I have to go back to writing chapters with the old Paper and Pencil way. :(

Well, here ya goo...tell me what you think!

enjoy...

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><p>Sleep is filled with multiple horrors.<p>

The screaming victim reduced to ashes.

The relieved children exploding in seconds.

Hundreds of people fighting to escape a barrier that I know they will never make.

The inhumane part? It's not the typical twisted dream. It is reality.

I didn't save the screaming woman. I saw her descend in flames the night of the District 12 bombing.

The bomb causing innocent, oh so innocent, children into the explosion was derived from my crooked mind.

Those people dying because the exits were buried under rock was happening the same time while I stood miles away on top of their Justice Building wallowing in my own free will.

It's my fault. They are all dead because of me.

My eyes fly open and my blood run hot.

I have to let out this built up energy. This anger. This hatred. This _guilt_. Somehow.

As if right on cue I hear the click of a lock.

I shoot out of bed screaming every mental obscenity known to man. I tug on the doorknob.

Locked.

Then I resort to just plain crazy.

I pound on the doors, Throw chairs around, and break glass.

Pure rage is my only fuel.

Hatred for the Capitol. For this country. For myself.

"You idiot!" I finally scream, ending up in a huddle on the floor at the edge of the bed.

I grip my head between my bleeding hands and just let it out.

I think the last time I cried was when Katniss was first reaped. I fled for the woods after I saw her in the Justice Building and just crumbled.

There is another faint click, but I don't bother to look up.

I don't pay the slightest attention until a warm set of hands place on my shoulder and my knee.

I look up and there is the same red headed attendant crouching over me, offering a warm, wet rag.

I sit up slowly and take the cloth, cautiously, burring my face in its warmth.

She sees the blood on my hands and stands up, walking into the bathroom.

I don't deserve kindness.

She comes back with tweezers, ointment, and bandages.

"Ruff time?" She mumbles, motioning for my right hand, finding a spot in front of me.

I give it to her, but stay silent.

She plucks the glass slivers from my palm.

"I was the same way once." She goes on.

I find her eyes, but she watches her work.

How young is she? Nineteen? Twenty?

"I loathed everything of Capitol design." She sets down the tweezers and massages the clear liquidy ointment into my hand. "They took my family by firing squad."

I stay silent.

She wraps the bandage around my palm.

"I was from Nine."

She must be, given the lack of the regular twisted Capitol accent. She continues. "I was forced to work here. I was fortunate to not be forced into an Avox…but just not fortunate enough."

She has brown eyes. Deep, deep, brown eyes.

"I was over the Avoxs, though. Worst job ever—hearing the guttural cries every now and then was heartbreaking."

She takes my other hand to apply the tweezers to the shards. "During the Rebellion…that is what gave me an escape from the place."

"Why did you come back?" I whisper hoarsely.

She drops the tweezers in surprise as if she didn't know I could talk. We lock eye contact.

It takes her a while to find her words, but when she does, she shrugs, "Because I had no other choice. No other place to call home."

She lathers the ointment over my hand and wraps the other bandage. When she is done, she straightens up and smoothes out her navy blue skirt.

She clears her throat, jumping back into business. "Plutartch has an important meeting in twenty minutes." She turns to walk to the closet. "The Capitol fell when the Mockingjay shot Coin. It has been hell ever since."

She returns with black slacks and a gray button down dress shirt and drapes it over the foot of the bed. She offers me a hand. "Well, come on then."

I ignore her help and find my footing.

She eyes me.

"What?" I shoot.

She shakes her head and begins to make up the bed. "Hurry up and change."

I look at the clothes.

"Don't want to look like the penetraitable weakling you are now." She tosses over her shoulder.

I glance between her and the clothes.

"I am not weak."

And with that I snatch up the clothes.

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><p>"Ow." I wince.<p>

"Well if you stay still…" The attendant laughs lightly tugging out the last piece of glass from just above my brow.

"You really went at it with the glass, didn't you?" She sets the tweezers and picks up a cloth to spot my face with.

"Well I guess it is rather relevant for me to introduce myself. Since all avoxs have fled, I'll be your caretaker." She brings the clothe over my nose and down my left cheek. "My name is Kathrena Tacks. I am the Avox director here at the Training Center and I am originally from District Nine." She raises an eyebrow despite her graceful smile.

I chuckle ever so slightly. "You already told me most of that information."

She drags the rag over my chin for the third time, avoiding my gaze.

"I know. It is just required Protocol," she shrugs, "minus the District part."

"Well then, my name is Gale Hawthorne—"

"I know. We all do."

I grab the rag from her frail hand. "I think my face is clean enough."

She catches my eyes, but darts away.

"Uh," she picks up a tub of ointment from the bathroom draw right next to us and dabs her fingers in it to paint over my face.

"You really do have a lot of battle wounds, don't you." She whispers to her self, changing the subject, passing over my burn scars on the sides of m y face. "Too bad they cut into that beautiful tan skin."

"Beautiful?"

She nods. "Where I come from, everyone has pasty white skin like me. No one is as dark skinned as people from Eleven, or tan from Twel—"

"Not everyone is like this from Twelve." I cut. I remember the wryly person that came between Katniss and I.

Her voice becomes tweaked in an edgy tone. "Well, I know that. I have seen Peeta Mellark and—"

I stand up, causing the container of ointment to clatter to the floor.

"Excuse me?" She stands up, growing angrier for an explanation.

I tower above her. A new stimulant of rage pumps through my body.

Peeta. Katniss. I need to get out of her.

I stand there, about to let it out, when her eyes soften. This kills me. I stand my ground, but the sight reminds me of so…many lives I didn't save.

I close my eyes shut and mumble, "Where's the meeting?"

She backs down an returns a muttered, "Three doors down from the Training Center. On the left."

With that, I leave.

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><p>GUYS! This is the longest PAIN chapter so far :D<p>

What do you think of Kathrena? Gale?

REVIEW and tell me what you think:D


	7. Chapter 7

"Congratulations, Ladies and Gentlemen, we have succeeded! The Capitol has fallen!" Plutarch Heavensbee announces with superior finality.

Around the Conference Room, people stand in odious harmony applauding.

But whom do they applaud? Obviously not Plutarch.

We are gathered in a wide, yet narrow room. Plush reddened leather chairs are tucked under the elongated cherry table of which we sit.

Across from me is Haymitch Abernathy, the only person in the Capitol I truly know to still have some sort of sanity from Twelve. We have never been the great of friends, just mere acquaintances. He tends to stick with the _other_ District Twelve Victors. We have worked together though, muttering orders, ideas, and directions to one another over the past year or so. He and I are the only ones avoiding the applause.

Plutarch takes it in graciously as if he were the one to accept all glory.

"Now, now." He calls over the whoops and hollers.

The room seems to calm down a bit and everyone becomes seated again.

Waiters come out with black trays filled with fine glasses of water.

Plutarch sips his lightly and sets it aside.

"Before we start, I would like to recognize the geniuses behind the Rebellion." He takes out a folded piece of white parchment, unfolds it, pulls out his reading glasses, and eyes the list keenly.

"First, the District Commanders…" He widdles down the list excitingly naming the people head of command; Fleese of District 1, The late Lyme of District 2, and so on.

The list drones on and on until one particular name catches my attention. Paylor of District 8.

She stands up, accepts the fading applause, and then sits back down.

I find her across the table, my gaze lost in the movement of clapping hands as the lists go on and the remaining living Commanders stand.

Her look is bold, noble, and confident. How can someone so involved still feel inferior?

I am inferior. Still inferior—or so I tell myself.

"Now onto our Intelligence. There are many in this department. Many deceased. Many still alive." He gulps.

Katniss's name is soon to come up, I know it. She was the face of this beautiful disaster. She has to be mentioned.

"The Department of Strategy: Flaver Tin. Marium Max. Dethory Prune…" And the list goes on.

"Department of Occupancy: Cravy Crank. Stun Fly. Pena Savvy…"

Other Departments are called. The people still alive stand, wallow in the clapping, and replace their seat over and over again.

"Department of Defense."

Haymitch's gaze switches to mine and he smiles…warmly. He seems proud. Proud of my work in this? It's rather strange, even for him.

"Beetee Cerceet. Gale Hawthorne…" More are announced, but I stand up.

Carefully, a smile of accomplishment slides onto my face. We really did it, didn't we? We beat the Capitol in _their_ Games.

I smile to Beetee in a congratulations sort of manner. He grins greatly at me, at the crowd. And we sit.

"Another person we are so grateful for as well, although not listed in these departments is Haymitch Abernathy."

Haymitch slides from his seat and cautiously stands.

The crowd goes wild.

But there is no mention of Katniss.

I clap as well, acknowledging that he was the only one to penetrate her thick, thick skin.

"Um, excuse me." I clear, once everyone is seated and the recognitions are over.

Plutarch sips at his water, again and calls on me.

"Yes, Soldier Hawthorne."

I stand over the table.

"What about the Mockingjay? She was the face of this. She deserves credit…" my voice crawls to a whisper, "Katniss Everdeen?"

This catches the room off guard. The place falls silent, except for the hushed whispers between people as they stare up to me.

Plutarch's face contorts in thought. "Well of course, Soldier. We obviously have not forgot the Mockingjay—"

"Why wasn't she been presented, then?"

He looks around.

"She is not here, as you can tell."

"Neither are half of the departments and squadron leaders."

"Yes, because _they_ are dead."

"Shouldn't she be here?" I question quite loudly.

He looks down at his hands, and everyone's gaze shoots to him.

"Katniss Everdeen. The Mockingjay. This is the subject I was to bring up next." He mumbles.

"What are we to do with the girl?" Someone calls in the audience.

Plutarch looks up wearily.

"Hawthorne, if you may." He eyes my seat.

I sit down.

He nods and comes to a stand. He presses a button that has appeared in front of him, and the room goes dark.

A screen lowers from the ceiling at the opposite end of the table and picture appears.

There, standing proudly and honorably is Katniss Everdeen. Not the girl I grew up with. Not the girl I hunted with. Not my best friend. Katniss Everdeen the Mockingjay.

She stands boldly in her Mockingjay rebellion attire, holding her helmet at her side. She looks over the crowd with an indifferent arrogant look. This isn't Katniss. This is someone else.

"This was taken during the Airtime Assault operation a couple of weeks ago." Plutarch begins. "But, further more, the idea of what to do with Ms. Everdeen is complicated. After the assassination, she was sentenced to quarantine."

"Where is she now?" Another strange interjects.

He looks over coolly. "Just a few floors above our heads."

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><p>Review for the next part of the meeting:)<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry it took so long to post, our house is being replumed:/

but here it is now!:D

EnJoY...

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><p>"She is a monster!"<p>

"A lunatic!"

"Psychotic!"

"No she is not!"

These words are the argument over the course of the meeting.

People go back and forth over Katniss's fate.

I occasionally break in with a slight comment, but am soon lost.

"No. That is not fair!" Bursts in Haymitch. I think he has way more authoritative commentary being Katniss's mentor. Me? As her best friend? Not so much.

The crowd had been arguing about a death sentence.

"Don't you think that is a little extreme?"

"Exactly." I butt in.

"Abernathy. I think it would be in—"

"After all of the things she has done for you?"

I jump in and stand.

"So what everyone is saying is that 'Hey, we have already stripped her of her dignity. Ripped her from her state of mind. Torn every ounce of hope out of the girl and now we want to kill her?"

The room falls silent.

"Well, if you put it that way." Someone from the Department of Occupancy retorts.

"Yes, when you put it that way! Are you serious?"

"Soldier Hawthorne, maybe if we just—" Paylor broke up.

"Maybe if we did what? What next? What else can you do to destroy," I motion to the hanging picture of Katniss on the projection screen, "the Mockingjay?"

Haymitch picks up on my lines. "Sentencing her is a horrible mistake. Haven't you already noticed what she is plotting to do? She is trying to kill _her own self_. That is Katniss—the stubborn, headstrong person we know. At least Gale and I…"

"Please." I whisper.

Without a word, Plutarch touches another button and Katniss's pucture shifts over revealing a bold black paragraph. Everyone's attention changes.

It reads:

"_Katniss Everdeen_

_The Mockingjay"_

Plutarch's hushed voice comes into play, reciting the rest.

"_The humble innocent from District Twelve has amazed us all. She has made it twice through the Hunger Games, Lead a Revolution, and assassinated our future Panem Leader_."

"Now," he jolts back to himself, "I have not gone for the Death Sentence. I think something else is at compromise."

The crowd mumbles a complaint.

Idiots.

"I say…Trial."

I look to Haymitch for confirmation.

He only nods, but I know he is relived. We will fight for Katniss.

Half of the room, which was against execution, goes for it.

The other half scowl.

Plutarch looks over the crowd with finesse and raises his hands.

"All in favor of Trial, say I."

The majority positively responds.

"Thank you." He nods and sips his water. "Another item of business is that, as you already know, we are in need of a Panem President. Our Officials have come to a conclusion that it would be best is one of the District Commanders would be suitable. Since there are only three remaining, we our work cut out for us." He gives a cheeky grin. "District Commanders, please stand."

Out of the three Paylor stands.

"So you are calling an Emergency Election?" A soldier calls out.

"Yes. There are to be more positions elected: Vice President, Secretary of Defense…Secretary of Communications, etc."

Haymitch raises his hand. "And when will this beheld?"

"Tonight. The subtle categories will be announced tomorrow by choice."

And that mainly concludes the meeting.

Mandatory attendance tonight in City Circle.


	9. Chapter 9

I am reading two books right now, so i have no time to REALLLY right out a long chapter. One is for fun (MATCHED by Ally Condie) and the other i personally hate. It is for school :( (BELOVED by Toni Morrison)

This is a short little filler, though. I thought it was kinda cute.

Enjoy...

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><p>Kathrena shows me to my room and to dinner that night.<p>

Ever since I yelled at her she has skipped the friendly approach and has just been around me less and less, only escorting me to places when necessary.

She attended the Emergency Election, but sat in the back.

I was required in the front.

It was quick and to the point, the Election. Plutarch welcomed the remaining citizens from around the Capitol and basically read off each position and the short description. People were rather hesitant, but it went over well. I mean the Capitol only fell _yesterday_.

It lasted about two and a half hours. People came in, sat through the droll speech, voted, and then left fairly quickly to get out of the ruins (there was a spot cleared for the chairs and such for the Election).

Turns out Paylor made President. She seems strong enough to out of all of us. Fleese Koot, head of command in District One made Vice and surprisingly (sarcasm) Plutarch was voted as Secretary of Communications. He is in charge of the Television shows and stations.

By the end of the Election, Plutarch mentioned one thing after the votes flooded in on the counter.

Katniss Everdeen's trial.

He will be broadcasting every bit of it, if anybody cared—which they didn't. They too are so broken by the dismal state that they either swore him off or walked away into their weak homes.

Even through all of the anger I have for the Capitol, my heart bleeds for them.

Kathrena led me to my room that night. After all of the silence I finally got the never to ask her a simple question.

"Why do you need to escort me everywhere?" I had wondered.

She looked at me dumbfounded. She stumbled for words, but came up speechless.

"I will stop, then." And with that she left.

I fumbled an apology, but she was to out of earshot by the time I found the right words.

I shrugged and rolled my eyes.

Girls.

I feel like an eight year old again.

When girls were too confusing to figure out.

They prance around, get offended at every little remark, and walk off with out a word.

Nothing has changed.

Twelve years later, and nothing has changed.

* * *

><p>Tell me what you think of Kathrena:)<p>

**_REVIEW_**


	10. Chapter 10

There are song lyrics in here. I don't own those either.

Try to figure out what they are and what band they are from;D

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><p>It is early morning when she comes in.<p>

Dark and quiet.

She pulls the shades open and turns on the blaring light.

It's a rude awakening, nonetheless.

I shoot out straight up and begin to let loose a string of wrath, when she stands there at the edge of my bed.

"You are a hunter, are you not?" Kathrena whispers in a forced formal tone.

She doesn't want to be here. I can tell. After my confrontation yesterday, her look seems bored and flat.

She is dressed differently today, blood red hair pulled up into a curling pony tail, a black pin skirt and pink blouse this time—not navy and yellow.

I like yellow. Anything bright for that matter now, it seems.

"Well?" She reinstates again after I don't answer.

"Um, yes. I am."

Her shoulders shrug and she rests her hands on the footboard.

"Well, come on then." And she turns to leave.

"Where are we going?" I toss aside the covers and grab my shirt, tugging it over my head.

"The basement. To the actual gym."

"What's there?"

She doesn't even consider answering until we reach the elevator. Even from there, she just stands sullenly in the corner.

I rub my eyes. What time _is _it?

"What are we doing?"

"It is more of what _you_ are doing. You are going to," the doors ding and slide open, "play around with the bow and arrow." She points.

I side-glance and Kathrena looks straight ahead, defiant. A small smile plays across her face and she tilts her head up. She turns to look at me, but the smile vanishes.

She coughs, then nods. "There."

"Why am I being sent to do this?"

"Would you believe protocol?"

"What protocol?" I feel a tinge of angst. I want to touch the bow again, though. Pick it up and string the arrow. Pluck the string and watch the arrow soar. It's my only longing. My only comfort.

She drops the question and hides her light laugh. "Just go."

I glare at her strange ways, but dismiss it. I walk to the bow and sheath of arrows left neatly on the center of the floor.

"This is where the tributes were judged for their training score." Kathrena echoes, slowly stepping through the way in a stand. Her words are cold and empty. "The Game Makers sat up here."

I pick up the gleaming bow. It's mine. From the Rebellion. I was disarmed immediately upon capture by the peacekeepers a couple of days ago, but it is back. Is it really over? Did the Rebellion still rage on only days ago?

Its silver and black—the bow. The arrows, despite the various kinds I had during the war, are just plain straggly ones with a soft feather attached to the end. It reminds me of home.

Swiftly, I throw the sheath over my bruised back and lift the bow. I slide an arrow into place and with in seconds, the head is lodged in a hanging shred of cloth.

This place, this gym, is not in too bad of a condition. There are things here and there that are leftovers from something. I don't know what.

I go on for a while, shooting the arrows over and over. When the sheath is empty, I gather the sticks and start the process over again. It's my only therapy that actually works. Not the methodical medicines that doctors prescribe. Not the meaningless words from people that drown me in irrational nothingness. It's just this simple tool that I have grown up with. The only thing missing is Katniss.

Kathrena stares emotionless from a chair in the stand. She watches my every move, monitoring every action, but she doesn't say anything. Could she still be possibly hurt from last night?

It takes all I can, but around the third collection of arrows, I walk up to the stand. Her expression doesn't change and she stays oblivious, but obvious.

"Are you alright?"

"What do you mean?"

I sigh.

"What is the matter with you? I thought you were supposed to be nice, remember? What happened to the caring Kathrena who went out of her way to help me? I didn't deserve that."

"Obviously, I was an inconvenience." She states.

"I just came out of a rebellion." I huff in disbelief.

She rolls her eyes and leans forward in a whisper. "Listen, you are put up for assignment. They want you out of here. It's mainly your choice where, but your going no matter what."

This surprises me. The fact that I _am_ leaving this place. For good?

"Paylor said so. Remember when Plutarch said other positions would be selected but volunteers would be considered? They want you to put yourself forward. They want you to take up the job."

I understand that, but she wasn't at the meeting. How does she know?

"How did you…" I trail off, looking at the floor.

"Know about that?" She steps closer to me.

Kathrena is elevated higher than me, so she comes down to her knees. We become at eye level and pain fills her eyes.

"Because no matter how hard I try to escape, I am still enslaved in this place."

We hold each other's gaze for a long moment.

We are broken.

All of us.

Every last one.

What must we do to restore our innocence?

And oh, the promise we adore.

Give us live again, because we just want to be whole.

She is stuck here. Aren't we all?

It's just a big game.

Still.

"You stood in on the meeting?"

"More than that." She raises an eyebrow and stands up.

I follow her with my eyes.

Something sharp floods me. It's my own rage. The same I have felt for years, but something is different.

This time Kathrena fires it.

She walks flawlessly down the steps of the stand to the floor. She passes me and finds a stray piece of rope on the floor.

Effortlessly, she concentrates on her hands and lifts up the rope. It is weaved into an intricate braid that she holds up to the light.

How can someone who has been trapped like this know something about knots and rope?

She finds my confusion amusing.

"Even a _slave_ knows a few tricks. I am not completely useless."

She tosses it at my feet and turns to the elevator.

When the door dings open, even from across the room I can see that smile.

Kathrena steps in she calls one last thing.

"Breakfast is in ten minutes, then the volunteer meeting."

And I am left to myself.

* * *

><p>ooooh what about Kathrena?<p>

Review. Please:) come one it isn't THAT hard...


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello, again.**

**Before you read, to address a probably confusing issue as Estrunk has put it. This story goes day by day from the point when Katniss shots Coin. I guess, yes, there is probably about a month hiatus between the bomb attack on City Circle and the Assassination of Coin, so that is my mess up in the last chapter. **

**But anyway…to put it in simpler terms, say Katniss killed Coin on a Monday. In this chapter, it is Wednesday. It goes quickly. Haha:)**

**Enjoy…**

* * *

><p>Just as Kathrena promised, there was another meeting.<p>

I found myself exactly in the same seat as I was yesterday in the meeting. Everyone has same placement, except for the far end of the table. The new Presidential panel.

Before the meeting starts though, we are, again, ushered our water. The assembled line of waiters flows out of the entrance doors as usual. I look up and count out of boredom.

One black suit, two black suits…four, five…

About the seventh waiter in, I stumble short. Among the uniformed black hair of the other waiters is a spot of red.

A red head.

Kathrena.

My head turns back and I stare down at my hands on my lap, only occasionally to look up when cups are placed on the slick wood near by.

My glass of water comes next and the porcelain hand delivers it.

She smells of roses. Sweet, sweet roses.

"Hello, again." I hear the soft crisp whisper in my ear. "Still figuring out that even slaves have tricks of their own?"

The conversation is clearly not supposed to happen. By the way of the room, waiters only serve, not make small talk.

She is gone before I can reply.

When I turn around to do so, I only see the back of her high heels sauntering out of the meeting hall.

"Excuse me Ms. Tacks?" Plutarch calls despite the chatter of the room.

Her hand barely brushes the door, her tray hanging by her side when she turns to present her self with a…smile?

Her smile is beautiful. It beams, white and glorious…but oh so staged.

"Yes, Game Maker?" She walks over to his chair.

With all of the talk in the room, I cannot make out their short conversation, but when they are done; she straightens and catches me staring.

My cold hard look matches her amused eyebrow –raised one.

I follow her with my eyes as she walks back to the door. When she steps up to the door to leave, she turns again and flitters her fingers in a curt wave.

Paylor gives a loud throat clearing cough and I jolt back into reality.

"As your new President, I would like to bring the meeting to order." The room quiets down. Paylor looks over the crowd with ease. "Well, as first order of business, we are to assign new officials to Districts. Plutarch?"

Paylor sits down and Plutarch shoots up enthusiastically. "Before we begin assigning people, many of our own Capitol Citizens have joined us to volunteer. I will proceed to read the districts that are in need. Once you have heard the District and the positions open, if you want to volunteer, you may. If positions are still open, they will be filled by force." He looks over the crowd and begins.

"District One. Positions needed are Occupancy Officer, and Communications Officer. District Two. Positions needed are Occupancy Officer, Communication Officer, and Security Officer. District Three…" he drones on and on. "And District Eleven. Positions needed are Communication Officer and Trade Officer." Plutarch looks up. "Now, Occupancy deals with population count and such. Communication takes care of news, showing announcements, and updates presented to the Capitol. Security has control of remaining Peace Keepers, and monitoring the fences and construction. Trade is over the District's Trade. District One, volunteers?"

There is a soft eerie silence. I look up and down the table for any takers, until my eyes find Paylor.

She stares at me coldly, as if she expects me to volunteer for this one. This District. Of course she does. Kathrena said so.

"I do." The words are taken from my mouth. Two Capitol citizens have volunteered—both tall, unevenly skinny, and look like walking rainbows.

"Wonderful." Plutarch chirps with a flourish. "Positions?"

"Occupancy." The first one calls.

"Communication." Says the other one.

Plutarch collects their names and scribbles onto a clipboard.

"District Two."

The silence falls again. Paylor looks to me for a second, but then stares down the crowd for other Volunteers.

"Occupancy?" Paylor looks over me again.

Her cold, cruel stare.

"Communications?"

Before I know it, my voice escapes.

"I volunteer."

* * *

><p>OOHHH I <strong>SOOOO<strong> WANNA KNOW WHAT YOUR THOUGHTS ARE:D

REVIEW! duh:P


	12. Chapter 12

Hey guys:)

I have some good news and some bad news.

Good News: I am loving this series, aren't you?

Bad News: I am going out of town until Thursday...so that means no new chapters until Friday.

Okay...so there really isn't good news, but I will update on Friday:D

-_- I know. it sucks. RIGHT WHEN THE STORY WAS GETTING GOOOOOD

But if you just hang on...i will update every single day (starting friday) until this is done. Sound Good?

Enjoy...

* * *

><p>As always, the rest of the meeting goes by in a swirl. The rest of the Officials are announced. I am one of them. Communications Official of District Two. I ship out tomorrow at noon. I can finally leave this place.<p>

Nothing exciting is discussed after that. Officer duties, which comes with thick packets handed out. Plutarch's pitch about the new television programs coming our way. Current Districts' status.

The discussion of District Twelve comes into the mix. Haymitch argues that it should be cleaned up and redeemed a substantial place to live. People disagree and then I jump in and fight with Haymitch. District Twelve is still a district. It deserves to be revived.

Then, as if harmoniously simple, the subject of the girl twelve floors above us pops up into the conversation. The dog-eat-dog conversation goes back and forth on the touchy subject. Paylor has already arranged for the Court to assemble, but it will take a while to find a new judge. The old one was killed in the attack on City Circle when Prim died. The outcome? It will take two weeks to gather everyone before the trial.

At the end of the meeting, we are dismissed. There has been no sign of Kathrena anywhere at all.

When I stand up to leave, Paylor calls me over.

"Hawthorne." She mumbles.

I gather my stuff and walk over to the end of the table.

"You won't be shipping out tomorrow with the rest of the Officials." She grumbles.

"Why not?" I mutter. I want to leave.

"You are in need of here. For Katniss's Trial." She eyes me keenly.

"Why can't I just leave for Two then come back when it is time?"

"Because there are things to do before a trial. Information to be collected. Work to be done. You will work on the Capitol in the meanwhile."

"What?" I spit. I don't want to work in the Capitol! It's too hard of a past to relive.

"Yes. You are being placed into the Security program here. Once the trial is over I promise to send you directly to Two where you begin your work mopping up peace keepers."

I am not leaving. I am staying here. Kathrena is right. I am stuck here.

I nod and turn to go.

My hand brushes the door when Paylor's thick voice calls my name again.

I turn my head in her direction.

"And stay away from Tacks—the red head. She is more dangerous then you think." She nods and brushes pass me to leave.

{break}

I walk the long sullen walk to my room. I go up the elevator, pass the District Two dining room, and pass vacant dark rooms.

"Gale." Something whispers.

I look over my shoulder and nothing is there.

I walk forward.

"Gale."

I ignore the words and pass through the hall. My room is the last on the left.

A hand wraps around my arm and I am pulled into one of the bedrooms.

"Gale?" the voice laughs weakly.

The room is dark and spacious…and big. Although is it noon, this room holds no windows. Shadows cascade of walls.

Footsteps scurry away into the depths of the room, but I stay completely still.

A light flickers on from a lamp in the corner and I barely catch the shimmer of the crimson hair escape the light.

"Kathrena…"

Her hands falls over my mouth. "Shhh. Whisper."

"Why? What did Plutarch tell you?" I hate Plutarch.

"Nothing. Nothing mindless at least."

"What do you mean?"

"Did Paylor tell you something?"

"What did Plutarch say?"

She pulls back and breathes a little.

"Plutarch told me to stay away from you. I have been discharged from your service and reassigned a new person to wait on."

"You never waited on me."

"Gale…" She hushes. "What did Paylor tell you?"

"The same thing. She said you were too dangerous."

She sighs into silence.

"But you aren't dangerous." My hands brush her elbows to touch her arms.

Her eyes are downcast.

"…The thing is…we…we can't talk to each other anymore. It is forbidden."

"Why is that? Nothing happened. Nothing bad."

"No, Gale it isn't you. It isn't the acquaintance. It is _me_."

"You?"

Her tearful eyes shoot to mine.

"Yes. I—"

"Gale?" My name doesn't come from her mouth or mine. "Hawthorne…"

My head whips around and I face the door.

"They are looking for you." Kathrena whispers behind me.

"But what about…"

"I can only talk to you in private now. They won't allow further conversation so meet me here. This will be the hiding place."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I have to go tend to a bunch of idiots down on the District One floor."

I stare at her. Pain fills her eyes and she mutters something about having more power than this.

"Go." She pushes. "Go. I will see you here tonight. Okay?"

I nod. "Fine."

I open the door and leave.

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><p>Review...please? I want to know your predictions for KATHRENA:D<p> 


	13. Chapter 13

Guys. I am a week late. I am sorry.

I was grounded from the computer because I didn't finish my homework for English. -_- i hated it. [one of the] Worst book i have ever read! ugh.

Anywho...I am back:)

[short...sorry:/ but] Interesting chapitre down below...

enjoy...

* * *

><p>Nine O'clock.<p>

I stare at the clock on my nightstand.

Yup, nine o'clock to the dot.

I hate to admit it, but I was sent to bed thirty minutes ago with the clucky voice of my new "maid" telling me that tomorrow was going to be a long early day.

I start work in the Capitol tomorrow. I don't know exactly what, but I may be cleaning up the wreckage.

Joy.

Its late Fall, so that means the sun went down hours ago and it is pitch dark here in my room.

I am supposed to met Kathrena again soon, so I wait out the perfect time where no people would be wandering the halls. Everyone on my floor was sent to bed thirty minutes ago as well.

I sit up and the silk covers of my bed fall into my lap. I grab my shirt and sneak into the hallway.

Out of the seven rooms on the floor, only five are occupied. The District Two floor somewhat resembles that of its district—nothing too standard though, the majority is décor of the Capitol. The only thing that pops out is the light mural of mountains painted over near the elevators and the huge district seal in front of it.

Three doors down from my room the rendezvous point for Kathrena and I. I tip toe to the fading green door and slip in.

"Kathrena?" I whisper.

I am urged to call her name again before I find the lamplight.

In the shade skirts the light does not reach, a girl is curled up asleep on the purple sitting chair.

Before move to rouse her, her eyes creak open.

"Good. You made it." She mumbles.

"Why do you want me to meet you if you can barely even stay awake yourself?"

"Its my new assignment. I only directed and scheduled the Avox's before the war. But now that I am the only one left, save my new assistant who is _your _floor'swaiter, I am forced to serve as the avox's did. It really sucks."

"Why don't you just leave? It is not that hard—"

Her weak laugh seems familiar. "Gale, I can't. I told you that. I am literally a slave here. A…a valuable one."

"What do you mean?"

She stands up and we come face to face.

"It is hard to admit. My past isn't a normal one. I have with held it from many, and shared it with some. Paylor knows."

"That is way I am not supposed to talk to you?"

"That is why I am a valuable not worth losing. I am stuck here. I can't leave." She walks behind me and I follow her into the light. She looks away, but the glint in her eyes expresses a struggle. A life struggle put on her without permission.

"But you can. I have saved lives. I can save yours." That sentence came out on their own. Her words and beauty have provoked another spark to my flame…I think…I—

"Gale?"

I look down to her, but she avoids my gaze.

"Yes?"

"President Snow is my father."

* * *

><p>Ouch.<p>

TELL ME WHAT YOU TTHHUUUUUUNNNNNNNNK :DDDDDDDD


	14. Chapter 14

I dropped my hands and took two steps back.

"Gale…" her voice was soft, oh so soft I could barely here the tears forming.

"How is that even _possible_?" I rose, running my hand through my tangled hair.

"Gale, it's complicated."

"So is this!" I retort. I didn't know what I was doing until I caught myself in the act. I was moving my hand between both of us making the unconcluded statement that we had some sort of chemistry.

"What are you talking about?"

"N-nothing." I brushed off, red forming in my cheeks.

"But Gale…that is the reason we can't—"

"Just don't." I gave up. My shoulders dropped and I headed for the door.

"Gale!" Kathrena's voice was weak and cracking.

My hand touched the doorknob when her grip tightened on my arm. She flung me around and closed the door, pushing me up against it.

"Remember when I told you I was from District Nine?"

I didn't answer. Anger burned through me. How could I have fallen for someone who's family I hated so much.

"I am still from Nine, Gale. I am of the Districts not the Capitol!"

"Then how come your father was Snow? Huh? Explain that!"

"My _Mom_ is from Nine. My parents met…here I am and my mother moved to Nine. Snow threatened her so she moved to the least recognizable district. It isn't easy Gale."

My breathing slowed and I closed my eyes. "Why would you tell me this?"

"What?" Now she steps back, hurt.

"No, I mean…Why are you telling me this?"

"Because. I needed to. I needed to tell someone who didn't mind." She walks towards the chair I found her in and she barley lowers herself onto it. "Everyone that knows is either authority or controlling…I am forced to trust them. I really don't trust them, but they use me to their advantage."

"What do you mean?"

She avoids my eye contact.

How can someone so beautiful feel so small?

"Later on in my life, I was out, Snow had the Firing Squad ordered to my house." She swallowed and a tear falls down her porcelain skin. "I had no other relatives so when he found out I was still alive, he shipped me out here. He was furious and punished me by forcing me into Avox director. He would not allow my maiming to become an Avox, but he tortured me instead. He knew I hated Avoxs. He knew I couldn't stand their misery. I was too nice…too guilty…it was horror. I hated it. I hated being in the Capitol; I hated being watched personally by him; I just wanted to leave. But…I couldn't."

My heart bleeds for her. Snow was really that cynical, wasn't he? So drowned in power that he sacrificed his own daughter to suffer under his control.

She sits there, defeated with the weight of control on her shoulders. Her hair falls from it's ponytail and curls down over her cheeks. Her back in hunched and she stares at her feet, leaving her to her own sorrow. Another tear falls.

I don't know what, but there is something about that tear that provokes me to crouch down and wipe it away. I do so and when my finger brushes her cheek, our eyes meet once again. No one says anything, but her bleary sapphire eyes tell it all. She is in need of an outreach. She really is miserable. Everything she does is truly an act so her on lookers won't catch anything suspicious. She plays well. Even I was fooled.

She shifts ever so slightly. Her cold hand brushes over my own…and clings to it. I hold on.

"But you left. You left the Capitol during the Rebellion." I whisper with the same intensity of the moment.

"I escaped to the mountains far north. But I had to come back. I had no where else to go." I stare at her smooth dark lips as they crack into an innocent smile. "I guess I am just too stubborn."

And I say, "That makes two of us."

We lean in for the kiss. We come closer and closer until…

"Soldier Gale Hawthorne!"

Kathrena and I shoot up and spin around towards the door.

There stands Paylor in full uniform and a smug plump woman behind her. She is the clucky maid that is after me.

Paylor eyes us suspiciously, glancing between the two of us. Kathrena mumbles something behind me about being to loud, but I look forward. She slips her hand into mine, behind my back.

"President Paylor." I clear.

"You were under strict orders to steer clear of Ms. Tacks. She is to valuable for—"

"She is not dangerous." I slip in.

"Excuse me?"

"You said she was dangerous. She is just a person. I know that her fa—"

My hand is squeezed to stop.

"That is not a matter of business to be held right now, Hawthorne. You have disobeyed my orders. Ms. Scub, please escort this Soldier to his quarters."

The woman behind nods, "Yes 'am."

"Ms. Tacks, I would like you to stay in the East quarters of the Presidents Mansion tonight, if you would. I will be accompanying you on the way over. There is some business to…take care off." Paylor eyes dart past my ear and stab Kathrena.

I hear the solid voice behind nod and confront an agreement.

"I am discharging you from you standings as Director and putting you in charge of the mansion. I think that will be suitable, no funny business will occur there as it already has tonight." Paylor nods and turns to leave.

I step to go when Kathrena squeezes my hand once more.

I turn.

"I guess I won't be seeing you then." She mumbles, dissolving from the cold person she was towards Paylor.

"I guess not."

She leans in and kisses my cheek directly on a war scar. "Goodbye, Gale Hawthorne."

She pulls back and we gain eye contact again.

"Goodbye." I whisper.

Then I am called to leave by the maid.

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><p>PLEASE <strong>REVIEW<strong>:D I wanna know what cha think of Kathrena and Gale:)


	15. Chapter 15

heeey guys. Crazy day fo sho. School just started again (bleh-_-) but now I am back:)

Funny thing happened...I "found out" what District I was from on the Capitol website (www(dot)thecapitol(dot)pn/) (you have to have a twitter or facebook account btw) and I was assigned **District 9!** weird right? hahaha. you don't choose what District you get, though, but i think that is freaky! Maybe Kathrena will show up and I'll see her! xD

enjoy...

* * *

><p>Days passed.<p>

Hours turned into days and the days began to pile up.

Paylor finally scraped up a judge for the Trial of the Mockingjay and has scheduled the date for about a week from now.

Trial of the Mockingjay. That's what they are calling it.

As if Katniss can't a break from the Rebellion, they still tag her with that name.

I wonder what goes through her head. I sit there, again, staring into the monitor. I hate it. I hate this. I just…hate everything apparently. That is all I seem to do— hate. I know I can't do much for Katniss, but I know that I can atleast watch over her, even if it is from a far.

She hates me. Isn't there enough hate already? I screwed up. Of course I did. It was just that stupid president that got in the way. Both of them actually, Coin and Snow. Even Paylor?

My sketch for the bombs was not even approved or even considered enough to be used in _that_ way. They were locked up. Gone. I can't believe that Coin would do something like that. But it takes a power drunk to do it.

Then there is Snow. He caused this. He caused this mess; this Rebellion; this horror.

Then Paylor. Paylor…my thoughts vary. Granted, she warned and I did not listen. She was forced to take Kathrena away. But still.

The sweet tune hums through the low set speakers. Katniss sings. She actually started singing a day ago. She sings while she digs her toes into the carpet. While she sits in the window, even while she lays over the bed.

She has hit full-scale delusion.

I don't mind, though. It is nice to be here. It is releaving, too. That morning after Kathrena was moved down the street to the Presidential Mansion, I started my temporary job in the Capitol streets. All we did was clean up the excess junk that was in outer parts of the Capitol. I was assigned the street covered in tar.

That brought a horrible flash back. I was so strong, so determined to get through the day until I realized what the street actually held.

It was the street that The Star Squad ran into when we were filming propos. The tar ended up covering every over dramatic color in the neighborhood. Black hardened sludge hung from light posts, stuck to houses, caved in to doors.

"Okay, crew. The fun part is now about to begin." A commander from the rebellion grumbled. We were all suited up with backpacks attached to vacuums and there were ten of us.

"This stuff melts easy. Bo over there will light the ignition from the surviving pod, and the tar will become loose again. You job is to take the vacuum," he demonstrated with his, "and suck up the mess. Let us try to get this done so we can get out of this insanity."

The monotoned yes came from all around.

I had looked around. Everyone there had looked like…rebels? No. They couldn't have been. Maybe some sort of suriving pack of rebels forced to work here, but they looked different. The Commander told me they were held captive in war and were still dim from electric torture.

Everyone moved slowly to certain areas of the street and Bo flipped the switch. The tar began to move. Everyone else turned on their vacuums, except me.

"Hawthorne!" The commander barked from three houses down.

I was caught in the sight of on particular house on the corner. It was pink and the door was gone. I swallowed. That was the house Boggs died in.

"Yes, sir." And with that I turned on my vacuum.

We moved throughout the Capitol after that. It took three days to finally clean up the street, but the other streets were impossible.

One, I remember, was covered in those golden enlarged bugs pinned all over the street. Tracker Jackers.

"Y'all lucky that the Diggers already came. The bodies were barely still intact after these things came." The commander flipped on his vacuum and began sucking up the beasts. Diggers collect bodies.

Tomorrow I go and move shrapnel from the piles in the City Circle.

"Katniss." I sigh into the picture. "How can you do this?"

She went along singing her tune. I didn't recognize it, so she must be making it up.

"I miss you, you know that? I do need you."

I wish I could really talk to her. She hates me though, once again. She would never approve of it.

"I have been around the Capitol. We made a huge mess and I had to clean it up." I managed a weak smile at the thought of Katniss and I in the Rebellion. "We made a good team, you know. We busted up the Capitol."

Yeah. Up until I was taken captive. That was horrible. Took two shots in the side to escape, but I managed.

"Oh, who am I kinding." I drop my face into my hands. "It's over. All of it."

"No it's not."

The thick voice caught me off guard and I spun around in the chair.

There, once again, standing the doorway was President Paylor.

I stayed silent.

"Gale, it is not over, you know. There is still a life for you waiting in District Two. We just have to get past the last part first."

"What do you mean?"

"I know you love her. More than anything. Kathrena can't give you that." She sighed.

I turned my face back to Katniss, but did not answer.

"I am not a bad person, Gale."

This was the first time I have ever heard my name uttered from her breath.

"There is just too much to recover from. Trust me, nobody said it has, is, or was going to be easy. Give me a chance. I know you hate me." She stifled a light laugh. "Kathrena…there are just too many lies, truths, confusing concepts mingled in with her past. I don't want you to crumple."

I tried to ignore her, but I couldn't.

"You, after all, are still our best shot at the Mockingjay and everything else." She ended in a whisper.

What did that mean? _Everything else._

"The Trial was moved up to Friday. That is two days from now."

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples.

She stood up easily. "You are required in the Occupancy Hall in the Mansion tomorrow. Be there at 800." And she left.

Maybe she isn't bad…but she still is another _president._

* * *

><p><strong>Review<strong>_ si'l vous plait, merci beaucoup:)_


	16. IMPORTANT newz

Hello dudes. I need to ask you a favor.

**First **off, I am speedily finishing PAIN [or the conclusions to DISTRICT 2-what ever story you are reading this from], life as a high schooler is rough in the aspect of time and the amount of homework given (I mean some people dramatize that high school is a lot of work. THEY ARE NOT KIDDING.)

**Second**, I am in this somewhat stalled place in life. So if I wrote [my own] story and posted it on fanfiction, would you be willing to review the chapters? You'll love it. It is an innocent romance in high school.

So tell me what you think! It is more than that, the actual description is just hard to place into words right now.

Thank you sooo much:)! I love you guys and your support on my writing.

Comment/review on this if you are interested.


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